The Way Amnesia
by closeto30
Summary: Songfic: A Pete and Myka story based on the lyrics to "The Way I Loved You" by Taylor Swift and "Amnesia" by 5 Seconds of Summer.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So my constant need to keep my music collection on shuffle presented me with this - a songfic based on Taylor Swift's "The Way I Loved You" and 5 Seconds of Summer's "Amnesia".**

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_**Myka**_

Sighing softly, Myka Bering let herself into her downtown Denver apartment and switched on the small stained glass lamp she kept on the table by the door. Locking up behind herself, Myka methodically put her keys into the bowl by the lamp, and shrugged off her coat and hung it in the closet before she removed her shoes and placed them neatly underneath her coat. She walked slowly into the kitchen and switched on the light over the stove, casting a soft glow over the small area. Myka placed her purse on the countertop before burying her head in her hands. Looking up, she stared out of her windows at the lights of downtown for a while, before reaching into her purse and retrieving the small box that had been presented to her earlier that evening. Cracking it open, Myka chewed on her lower lip as she took in the flawless diamond ring nestled inside. Even in the low light of her kitchen space, the stone sparkled. Like the man who had proposed with it, the ring was perfect. And yet, as Myka studied the ring and thought back to the events of the evening just passed, she felt nothing; no passion, no fire, no surge of happiness, just a dull void. Myka snapped the jewellery box closed and dropped it on the countertop before she rested her chin in her hands. People were going to think that she was crazy. Declan Haines was the kind of man that mothers wanted their daughters to grow up and meet. He was tall and handsome, took care of himself physically, and was always well presented. He spoke with a trace of a British accent, which had been one of the things that had drawn Myka to him on their first encounter. Myka had been helping out in her father's bookstore on her day off from the Secret Service when Declan had walked in. He'd browsed for a short while before approaching Myka and requesting help. Myka hadn't noticed the good looks or the perfect hair, but his accent got her attention long enough for a conversation to be struck. She really had not been in the right headspace to even consider dating, and she'd told him as much when he'd asked her to dinner while she was ringing up his purchase. Declan had conceded that time, but he'd been gently persistent. Myka's mother called her every few days to report that Declan had been back to the store. After a few weeks, her mother softly broached the idea of Myka taking Declan up on his offer. Myka had taken the time to step back and assess her situation, and how she'd gotten to where she was. She'd had to go right back to that pivotal moment, when she had taken that leap, kissed Pete Lattimer, and told him that she loved him.

The first few weeks with Pete had been pure and unadulterated joy. They were in love, and every little thing they did together felt like it was for the first time. There was a skipped heartbeat for every smile, a thrill for every touch. Even as the Warehouse shut down around them, they laughed and played and kissed and just revelled in every moment they had together. It was their perfect time. Myka couldn't believe how easily their partnership rolled into a relationship. Pete fit her. He knew her. He loved her. The honeymoon period however came to an abrupt halt when life after the Warehouse suddenly presented itself to them all. Artie chose retirement, and Claudia elected to take on some travel before Caretaker duties kicked in. The Regents came through with a position with the ATF for Steve based in New Mexico, and then came to Myka and Pete with Secret Service roles in Boston. Even Myka had been taken by surprise when Pete had said he didn't want the role. Pete wanted to do something he loved for the rest of his life, and after the thrills of the Warehouse, he was fairly certain that his heart wasn't in the agency anymore. It was Claudia who did some research and suggested the comic book store that had recently gone up for sale in central Boston. With Pete's love of popular culture and comics, it was the perfect fit, and the matter seemed resolved, though Myka still worried that Pete was making a regrettable choice. Pete and Myka relocated to suburban Boston, to a cute double storey that Pete had not been able to resist carrying Myka over the threshold of. Their first few weeks were a blur of new schedules and unpacking, but Pete and Myka were always able to find their way back to each other at the end of the day. Then one day, they just didn't. Myka had stayed back late at the office, and by the time she came home, Pete was already asleep. He hadn't moved when she'd climbed into bed, and when she woke up the next morning, his side of the bed was empty. Their pattern changed in subtle motions, too small to notice at first, but when the visible cracks eventually started to appear, Myka felt like she was the only one that was seeing them. Pete's habits, which had seemed so cute back in South Dakota, started to irk her. Pete left wet towels on the floor after he showered, and there were always crumbs in the bed from cookies and popcorn. His socks and underwear never quite made it to the laundry hamper, and the laundry hamper in turn rarely got emptied. Myka would come home late from work and find Pete shirtless and asleep on the couch with the TV on and a comic book over his face, while the house around him looked to be in a permanent state of disarray. Pete didn't seem to know how to clean, and it drove Myka up the wall. And then there was the constant flirting with other women. When they finally found opportunities to go out together, Myka couldn't ignore the way Pete smiled and winked at their waitresses. She had always laughed or rolled her eyes at his antics before, but now they were making her angry and distressed, and Pete couldn't understand why she was so upset. Myka began to stay in the office for long periods of time just so she wouldn't have to face up to him, but eventually, she had to go home. The tipping point for their first fight was when Myka came home one night and tripped over Pete's shoes, which had been left sitting right in the middle of the doorway. Myka had managed to catch herself before she hit the floor, but something inside her mind snapped. Growling deep in her throat, she threw her bag and coat to the floor and stormed to the living room, where as she predicted, Pete was asleep on the couch, with art supplies strewn all around him. Irritated beyond all measure, Myka rolled up a discarded comic book and smacked Pete over the head with it. Before he even had the chance to shake himself awake, she launched into him, screaming and shouting out all of her pent up frustration. Pete had tried to give her the puppy dog eyes that had won her over so many times before, but Myka was having none of it, so Pete switched onto the offensive. The argument felt like it lasted for an hour, but was really only a few minutes, and ended with Myka storming up to their room and locking the door behind her. Pete spent the night on the couch, but the next morning when Myka came downstairs, the living room and kitchen were spotlessly clean, and a full breakfast was waiting for her on the table. This time, the puppy dog eyes worked, and for a short time, things stayed calm. The pair went another spell where they barely saw each other, passing like ships in the night, but the night of their reunion spawned their next big fight. Pete offered to take Myka to dinner, which Myka welcomed, until dinner turned out to be a dirty sports bar with all-you-can-eat wings and waitresses in low-cut tees. Pete was his usual flirty self towards the bar staff, leaving Myka seething by the time their date was over. They drove home in strained silence, but Myka's switch was flicked when Pete asked her what was wrong as they pulled into their driveway. She launched out of the car and into the pouring rain, shouting accusingly at her partner until he got out of the driver's seat and started yelling back. They screamed insults at each other from across the yard, each more ridiculous than the last, until they were standing so close their noses were touching. Rain was beating down on them both. Pete silenced Myka's next shout by placing his hand on the back of her neck and pulling her into a kiss. The screaming passion that had been feeding their argument seeped into their touch, and they melted into each other, soaking wet and burning with desire. And so the cycle continued. Pete and Myka drove each other to breaking point, fought like dogs, and then wordlessly and passionately made up. It was wild and crazy, but Myka couldn't help but feel exhausted by the whole situation. Her work was suffering badly, and she felt nauseated and tired 90 percent of the time. One afternoon, Myka caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror in the office and saw herself fully in the harsh fluorescent overhead lights. Her hair was unkempt and dull, there were dark circles under her eyes, and she was pale and thin. Life with Pete, riding the rollercoaster of emotions with him, was tearing Myka apart. God knew she loved him, but they were terrible together, and as much as it pained her, long term, life with Pete was going to destroy her both mentally and physically. Myka didn't want to hurt Pete, so she went about her business as usual, but quietly applied for a transfer to the Denver office. The look on Pete's face the day she packed her things and left, however, would be burned in her memory forever.

It had been just over a year since Myka had left Pete. There had been no attempt at contact. Myka spoke to Claudia and Steve regularly, and inevitably Pete's name would come up from time to time, but she knew nothing substantial of his life now. At her mother's gentle urging, Myka had finally taken Declan up on his dinner invitation, and had fallen into a comfortable rhythm with him. Declan was smart, had her taste in books and music, and enjoyed a glass of good wine with dinner. Myka's mother fawned over Declan, her father took his advice on business matters, and even her married-with-children sister stared at him like he was the perfect specimen of man. Myka herself could only find one fault in Declan Haines, and that was that despite the fact that he made her laugh, was chivalrous and kind, and looked at her like she was a queen, there was no passion, no fire, no spark. Declan Haines was perfect, but he wasn't Pete Lattimer, and there was no convincing Myka's heart otherwise.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Pete_**

The problem with being a recovering alcoholic was that when the situation really called for a drink, you just couldn't have one. Moaning in defeat, Pete removed a pint of Chunky Monkey from the freezer and padded barefoot out of the kitchen, a spoon already stuck in his mouth. Flopping down onto the couch, he looked down at his stomach and woefully acknowledged that the substitution of ice cream for single malt was giving him the kind of middle-aged spread that he'd been aiming for a long time to avoid. Not that he had anyone to impress these days anyway. The reason for his constant eating of his feelings was the only reason he wanted to stay in shape, and she was gone. Pete missed Myka with every breath he took. She'd been gone for a long time now, and yet every day he woke up with an empty feeling in his heart, and by nightfall, he was well into the depths of despair. The regulars at his comic book store noted his melancholy, and initially, some had even attempted to offer him some sort of distraction, but Pete had kept largely to himself. Sighing, he looked at the living room around him and noted how angry Myka would have been if she could see the state the room was in. Take out containers and dirty clothes littered the floor, and if Pete was completely honest, there was an offensive smell coming from one corner that he couldn't identify the source of. Putting the ice cream tub aside, Pete reached out for the sketch pad and charcoal that sat on the table in front of him. Before Myka had left, he'd been working on his own graphic novel, but now, all he could draw was her face. The drawing he'd started the night before consisted of Myka's eyes, a set of eyes that he now stared into as he lightly shaded in the frame of her face and worked through the curls in her hair. Pete remembered how those beautiful green eyes had flicked over his own facial features bathed in early morning light, eyes filled with happiness and desire. He also remembered when those same beautiful green eyes had shot daggers of pure hatred at him. Of course Pete remembered the fights, the fights that had gone on for days. There were things about Myka that drove Pete absolutely crazy, things that had always been so cute back at the Warehouse. The woman was incapable of leaving things alone; she was always rearranging kitchen cabinets and alphabetising books and throwing out items of Pete's clothing that he was rather attached to. Pete had absolutely lost his mind at her the day he discovered that his favourite Avengers t-shirt had been turned into rags just because Myka had found a hole under the arm. Myka had been even angrier when her distressed denim jeans conveniently disappeared two days later. Pete had angrily pointed out that they too had holes in them and needed to be disposed of. The argument that had followed had included two plates being hurled at Pete and hitting the wall instead, and had culminated in loud and passionate sex right there on the kitchen floor, where Myka had bitten Pete's lip so hard that she'd drawn blood. Pete rarely aimed to goad Myka into a fight, but he couldn't deny the buzz he got from them whenever they occurred. It was a rollercoaster ride, and it was exhilarating. He thought Myka had felt the same way. She hadn't said a word about wanting to leave, had never once mentioned that she had to get out. Pete had left the comic book store early one afternoon, expecting to find the house empty, and had instead walked in on Myka closing up the last of her suitcases. For the first time Pete saw the weariness on her face, the defeated manner in how she moved. Pete tried to get her to reconsider, got down on his knees and begged. He watched as the tears rolled down her face, tracking dirty mascara lines down her cheeks. When Pete paused to take a breath, Myka didn't say a word, just lowered her suitcase to the floor and left the room. Pete was still on the floor when he heard the front door shut behind her, and the SUV start and drive away. He waited for days for her to come back. They were in love. People who were in love didn't just leave. But Myka never came back, and never tried to make contact, and eventually Pete had to accept that his life had changed, and he knew he'd lost the best thing he'd ever had.

Life without Myka was quite frankly, in Pete's opinion, not really worth living. The house echoed with his footsteps, so he tried for a while to avoid it all costs. He spent long hours at the comic book store, and then drove around Boston for hours, trying to keep his mind off the fact that the two things he desperately wanted, Myka and alcohol, were both out of his reach. More than once he found himself sitting outside a liquor store, grasping onto the steering wheel to stop himself going inside. The grocery store benefited from his small acts of inner strength, and his freezer was soon full of every ice cream flavour Pete could lay his hands on. The house slowly turned into a bomb site around him, the floor covered in food wrappers and other litter. Pete ate, and watched TV shows in marathons, and sketched Myka's face over and over again. He broke the cycle just enough to make sure the comic book store ran smoothly, but essentially, Pete was alone with his pain. People just didn't seem important anymore. People weren't Myka Bering, and there was no convincing Pete's heart otherwise.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Myka_**

There were text messages on her phone that Myka should have deleted by now, but she just couldn't bring herself to let them go. Pete was a surprising wordsmith, and especially early on in their relationship, Myka had been constantly warmed by the sweet messages that would arrive in her inbox at the most unexpected of moments. Even though she didn't like to admit it, Myka still turned to these little notes in times of lapsed strength. Curled up in the corner of the eclectic coffee shop she'd adopted as her favourite, Myka was so engrossed in these messages that she didn't even notice her companion for the day had arrived until he sat down beside her. Blushing, Myka quickly placed her phone face down on the table.

"Don't worry, I won't tell," Steve Jinks smiled teasingly, and Myka blushed in reply. Steve had insisted that his transfer to Denver had been purely coincidental, and even though Myka still didn't quite believe him, she had become eternally grateful for his presence and friendship. They didn't talk about Pete; the notion of him more existed in the pauses of their conversations, but the support Steve gave in the times where Myka questioned her choices and her right to be happy was unparalleled. Myka and Steve may not have been incredibly close while they had worked at the Warehouse, but now, Myka couldn't have been more thankful for his friendship.

"So, what's the emergency?" Steve asked, arranging himself into a comfortable position on the overstuffed couch they occupied. "You sounded a bit worn out last night."

Myka didn't say anything, just reached into her purse and removed the small jewellery box she'd received the night before, sliding it silently across the table. Steve's ice-blue eyes widened considerably as he reached out and opened the box.

"Oh boy," he breathed out as he took in the ring.

"Yep," Myka said woodenly, pulling her knees up to her chest.

"What did you say?" Steve asked, snapping the box closed again.

"I said I had to think about it," Myka murmured. "Declan didn't even look upset. He told me to take as much time as I needed." She sighed.

"Why does he have to be so damn perfect?"

Steve's reply was cut off by the delivery of their lattes, brought to the table by a barista who locked eyes with Steve for a moment longer than was necessary, then blushed and moved away. A smile twitched on Myka's lips.

"He's cute," she teased. Steve rolled his eyes as he took a sip of his coffee.

"Let's not get off track," he murmured, and Myka pouted.

"This isn't just going to go away, is it?" she murmured, staring at the closed jewellery box. Steve grimaced and shook his head.

"Declan is a good man," he stated. Myka shot him a look, and Steve held up his hands defensively.

"Oh, I'm sorry, do you want me to tear him to pieces?"

"No," Myka whined dejectedly, lowering her feet back to the floor as she reached for her own coffee cup. "God, Steve, this is such a mess."

"I don't think people like you and me were designed to live easy lives," Steve quipped, and Myka grunted as she took a gulp of her latte. Steve placed his own cup back on the table, removed Myka's from her hands, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Myka huffed out a sad breath and rested her head on Steve's shoulder. After a while she unwrapped herself from Steve's embrace and leaned forward to pick up the ring box from the table. She turned it over and over in her hands, then glanced at Steve over her shoulder.

"I think we both know what I'm going to do," Myka said softly. Steve gave her a sympathetic smile, and pulled her back to his side. This time, Myka didn't even consider breaking away from his hold.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Pete**_

The buzzer above the door of Pete's comic book store made the sound of a Star Wars lightsaber every time the door opened. Pete looked up at the noise, and offered a genuine smile at the young woman who stepped through the doorway.

"Hey Claud," he said, and the redhead winked at him as she slung her satchel onto the countertop and leaned over to kiss Pete on the cheek. Claudia Donovan hadn't even bothered to lie about why she'd turned up in Boston all those months ago. She'd made it clear that she was there to make sure Pete didn't do something stupid. Claudia had enrolled in classes at Boston College, and had taken up residence in the small apartment above the comic book store and even worked the occasional shift for Pete, but mostly, she just was there to offer support when Pete needed her. She'd seen the disarray that was his house, had even tried to clean up once, but she swore something had moved where there shouldn't have been things moving, and abandoned the task. Pete appreciated her presence more than he let on. It gave him something to hold on to when times got hard.

"What's new?" Claudia asked perkily, hoisting herself up onto the countertop next to her bag. Pete twirled his pencil between his fingers.

"Same old, same old," he quipped, grimacing slightly. Claudia leaned over to inspect his sketch pad, and found the same thing she always did. Pete drew Myka strictly from memory, and yet managed to capture her image perfectly every time. Claudia was saved from commenting on the drawings by the ringing of her cell phone. Her eyes lit up at the name that registered on her display screen, and she slid from the countertop and sauntered out of the store. Pete watched her go with a bemused look on his face, then put his sketch book aside so that he could serve a customer whose arms were filled with a stack of dollar comics. He was just finishing up when Claudia walked back into the store. She looked troubled.

"Something wrong, Claud?" Pete asked, frowning in a concerned manner at his friend. Claudia blew out a haggard breath.

"Pete," she started gently, and Pete stepped slowly away from the counter.

"Claudia, what is it?"

Claudia screwed up her face in pain.

"That was Steve on the phone," she told Pete. "He had news. News about Myka."

Pete went pale.

"Myka?" he whispered.

"Pete, Myka met someone," Claudia said, wincing as Pete's face fell.

"Oh," he murmured. "Well, of course she did. She's only the most beautiful woman on the planet."

"Pete, she met him a while ago," Claudia continued slowly. "That's not why Steve called. This guy, Declan, he, um... aw crap, Pete, don't make me say it." She stamped her foot in frustration.

"Claudia!" Pete snapped. "What did he do?"

"He proposed!" Claudia blurted out. "Declan proposed to Myka."

Pete had been in enough fights and wrestling matches in his lifetime to know what physical pain felt like, but the feeling he had right at that moment was threatening to top any pain threshold he had ever reached before. Gasping for breath, he hunched over, putting his hands on his knees. Claudia rushed to his side, rubbing his back for a moment before pulling him upright again.

"Pete, she hasn't given him an answer yet," Claudia told him, putting her hands on Pete's face. Pete blinked wildly.

"What?"

"Myka didn't say yes yet," Claudia said. Pete stared at Claudia for a moment, and then swallowed hard before backing away.

"I have to go to Denver," he murmured. Claudia bit her lip.

"I can hold down the fort here," she said softly. Pete pulled her into a hug and kissed her temple.

"Thanks Claud," he murmured in her ear.

"Go get 'em, tiger," Claudia told him, patting him on the back. Pete shot a hopeful smile over his shoulder at her as he hurried out of the store. Claudia said a quick prayer under her breath as she watched him go, and crossed her fingers, just in case.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Myka**_

Declan had picked the cute little Italian place for their dinner date. It was the same cute little Italian place where they'd spent their first date. Myka loved the cute little Italian place, which was probably why Declan had picked it again, but right at that moment she felt like she was suffocating. Declan took a sip of his wine and looked at Myka over his glass.

"You doing ok, sweetheart?" he asked gently. "You barely touched your dinner."

Myka gave him a wobbly smile.

"Just saving room for dessert," she murmured. Declan gave her his perfect Colgate smile and reached across the table to take her hand in his.

"Tiramisu for two?" he asked, and Myka gave a short nod. Declan squeezed her hand before getting to his feet and heading towards the counter to order. Myka watched him go and immediately wondered if she could make a break for the door, and then felt guilt stab through her like a knife. Declan truly cared for her, wanted desperately to share her life, and all she could think about was running as far away as possible. She was being unbelievably selfish, and the guilt was almost too much to bear. Myka was reaching for her phone to call Steve to come and rescue her from the mess she was in when Declan arrived back at their table, twirling a long-stemmed red rose between his fingers. Bowing slightly, with a cheeky grin on his face, he held out the flower to Myka.

"What's this?" Myka asked, reaching hesitantly for the rose. Declan sank down into his seat.

"Lorenzo," he said, glancing over his shoulder at the restaurant chef watching them from the kitchen, "says that such a pretty girl shouldn't have such sad eyes."

Myka sighed and gave Declan an apologetic look.

"I tend to agree with Lorenzo," Declan continued, reaching for Myka's hand. "Myka, sweetheart, you know that you can tell me anything, right? It's what I'm here for. All I want for you is happiness."

Myka looked down at the table for a moment, swallowed hard, and then looked up and met Declan's sweet, blue, earnest eyes. Summoning all her courage, Myka plastered a smile on her face and wrapped her fingers around Declan's.

"You've been so good to me," she said softly. "If I haven't said it enough, I apologise. Thank you."

Their tiramisu arrived at that moment, and Myka let go of Declan's hand to scoop up a forkful of the dessert. Flushing slightly, she offered the fork to Declan, her own display at taking away the first brick in her wall. Declan's face softened, and he leaned forward to let Myka feed him. Myka's heart was pounding in her chest, but when Declan took her hand again, for the first time she didn't tense at his touch, or try to pull away.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Pete**_

Claudia had texted him Myka's address while he was in the air, an address Pete had barked at the first available taxi driver upon his arrival in Denver. He'd fidgeted the whole way into town, and had barely remembered to pay the driver before bounding up the entry stairs of the apartment building. There was a slight moment of hesitation when he found himself outside Myka's door, but only a moment, before he lifted his fist and pounded on the door. However, it soon became clear that the apartment was empty, and Pete found himself momentarily at a loss. He hadn't thought further than his arrival at Myka's door. Disappointed, he ambled slowly down the stairs and back out of the building, and took up residence on a bench located across the street. He'd wait for Myka all night if he had to, though he really hoped he didn't have to. His departure from Boston had been a hasty one after all, and his jacket wasn't entirely suited for the onset of winter in Denver. Shivering slightly, Pete shoved his hands in his pockets and puffed out his cheeks in frustration. He wished he'd remembered to pack a sketch pad, anything to keep his mind occupied. His phone buzzing distracted him for a short time, and gave Pete the opportunity to let Steve know where he was and to tell Claudia to stop checking on him. Pete was so busy daydreaming about Myka that it took him a moment to register when the woman in question appeared on the corner of the street. He jumped to his feet, a smile spreading across his face as his heart sped up. Myka looked beautiful. She was dressed in tight dark denim jeans and knee high leather boots, a cropped trench coat belted tightly around her waist. Her unruly curls fell against a dark purple scarf, and Pete inhaled as Myka lifted a slender hand to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. The smile on his face, however, disappeared a moment later when Pete realised that Myka wasn't alone. A tall blonde man came up behind her and placed a hand on the small of Myka's back, and Myka glanced at him shyly.

"Oh, come on Mykes," Pete grunted under his breath. "You gotta be kidding me. The guy's a freakin Ken doll. And what kind of a name is Declan?" He watched as Myka and her companion walked slowly down the street towards Myka's building. Myka took the stairs first, then paused in front of Declan and turned to face him. She reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a small box. Pete's heart leapt to his throat as Myka handed the box to her companion, but it almost immediately plummeted to his stomach when Myka tentatively held out her left hand. Feeling like he'd been punched directly in the gut, Pete watched in horror as Myka's living Ken doll slid a diamond ring onto Myka's finger. A giggling Myka was pulled into a hug, and that was when her eyes locked on Pete's. Pete couldn't take the horrified expression off of his face. Myka spoke softly to Declan as she handed him her keys, and then waited until he had stepped inside her apartment building before she walked slowly across the street to where Pete stood frozen in place. She stopped in front of him and shoved her hands in her pockets.

"I'm going to kill Steve and Claudia," she muttered, looking everywhere but Pete's face.

"Myka," Pete gasped out, staring at her pleadingly. Myka huffed out a breath and met Pete's eyes.

"I can't do this right now," she said softly. "There's a coffee shop nearby. Meet me there tomorrow at 11.30." Pete listened dumbly as Myka recited the location details. He barely managed a nod of recognition before Myka turned and hurried back across the street. She turned and cast a look at Pete over her shoulder before she disappeared inside. Pete sank back down onto the bench and tried desperately to regain his composure, something that was incredibly hard to do when he could actually feel his heart shattering into one million pieces.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Myka**_

He looked like he'd been hit by a truck. Myka stood at the window of the coffee shop and watched Pete mulling over a cappuccino. There was a cookie sitting untouched on a plate in front of him. If there was ever an indicator that something was not right in the world, that cookie was it. Myka screwed up her face in pained frustration and huffed out a breath before she put her hand on the door and pushed to enter. Pete looked up at the sound of the bell, and Myka felt a jolt in her heart at the look of joy that momentarily crossed over his face. The barista recognised Myka and gave her a nod, and Myka mouthed her order to him before making her way to Pete's table. Pete stood as Myka unbuttoned her coat and draped it over her chair before taking a seat. The waitress arrived with a pot of tea, which Myka poured for herself as Pete resettled himself.

"I can't stay long," Myka said gently, wrapping her hands around her mug. "I'm on my lunch break."

"You're still wearing it," Pete murmured, staring at Myka's left hand.

"Pete," Myka sighed. Pete winced.

"Myka, what happened with us?" he asked pleadingly. "Everything was going fine."

"Fine?" Myka coughed out. "Pete, all we did was fight, and have sex, and then fight while we were having sex."

"And it was amazing," Pete stated.

"It was exhausting," Myka countered. "It was killing me, Pete." She gripped her mug tighter in an attempt to hide her shaking hands.

"You never said anything," Pete whispered, his voice cracking.

"I tried!" Myka whispered back, tears forming in her eyes. "You have no idea how many times I tried, Pete. It always ended in screaming, and crying, and –"

"Sex," Pete finished flatly, reaching for his cookie. He toyed with it for a moment, even broke off a piece, but the cookie ended up back on the plate.

"Yeah, sex," Myka echoed, sipping her tea. She sighed and flicked her gaze around the coffee shop, avoiding Pete's face.

"We were in love," Pete murmured, and Myka felt a stabbing pain in her heart. She met Pete's gaze.

"Sometimes, love just isn't enough," she whispered, her voice cracking. A rogue tear worked its way down her cheek. She brushed it away quickly. Pete pressed his lips together. Myka could see that he was moments away from crying himself.

"I can change," he choked out. "Whatever it was, Mykes, I can change."

"Pete, no!" Myka cried, trying desperately to ignore the little twist in her gut from the use of the nickname only Pete could get away with. "That's not the point. You shouldn't have to change."

"But if it meant..." Pete started, but Myka cut him off with a sad head shake.

"We could both make changes, and it would probably be ok for a while, but we'd never be able to keep the charade up forever," she said gently. "And then we'd be right back where we are now. I don't know about you, but I can't put myself through that again."

Pete looked miserable.

"You've really thought about this, haven't you?"

Myka ignored the question and took another sip of her tea.

"The point is, Pete, no one should have to change who they are to make a relationship work," she said. "One day, you'll meet someone who loves everything about you, and you'll love everything about her, and you'll understand why you and I didn't work."

"And is that what Declan is to you?" Pete asked. Myka sighed and tried to conceal the queasiness she felt.

"Declan is a wonderful man," she stated softly. "He's smart, and loyal, and self-sufficient. He likes Shakespeare and opera. He owns his own home, collects old coins..."

"He's totally boring," Pete said, and Myka smiled sadly as she met his eyes. She didn't try to argue the point. Pete silently slid his cookie plate towards Myka. Myka hesitated for a moment before picking up the piece that Pete had previously broken off. Pete followed her lead, and they both chewed in silence. Myka toyed absently with her engagement ring.

"Mykes, are you happy?" Pete asked. The look on his face told Myka that he really didn't want to ask the question. Myka swallowed hard.

"Life is easy here," she murmured. "I sleep well at night because I know what the next day holds. Declan's a big part of that. He's who I deserve."

"But he's not who you want," Pete countered pleadingly. Myka hung her head for a moment, and when she looked up, there were tears running down her cheeks.

"No, he's not," she sniffled. "But maybe one day, he will be."

Pete's own tears spilled over.

"Myka," he whimpered, stretching out his hand towards hers. Myka snatched her hand away before he made contact.

"Please don't," she begged, her heart breaking at the wounded look on Pete's face. Her hands were shaking.

"I'm sorry," Myka whispered, her voice cracking. "If you," she paused to wipe at her nose with the back of her hand, "if you touch me, I'm don't know if I'll be able to let you go."

"Oh God, Myka," Pete croaked out, his face crumpling. Myka hiccupped and wiped hastily at her tear streaked face before fumbling in her pocket for some change. She threw a crumpled note on the table and made to stand up. The legs of Pete's chair shrieked across the floor as he hurriedly pushed back from the table. He stopped himself mere millimetres from grabbing Myka's arm. Myka was still crying softly as she pulled on her jacket.

"Myka," Pete whispered, all of his begging going unspoken as it was written all over his face.

"I can't see you again, Pete," Myka told him, using a fingertip to wipe at the tears under her eyes. "Please, understand."

Pete took a step back and let out a shuddering breath.

"I love you," he said solemnly. Myka bit her lip.

"I love you," she whispered. There was so much more she wanted to say, but nothing felt right. Myka gave Pete one last woeful smile, and then turned and left the coffee shop. She paused outside for a moment to glance through the window. Pete was staring at his shoes, looking like a truly broken man. Myka willed him to look up, but he didn't. Telling herself that Pete would be fine, Myka stuck her hands in her pockets and hurried away before she gave in to the desire to turn and run back to the one man who truly owned her heart.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Pete**_

Several months later, Pete's cell phone chirped at him from its place on his kitchen counter. It was the night of Myka and Declan's engagement party, which he knew thanks to Claudia. She'd made the offer not to go, to stay with him instead, but Pete had sent her on her way, going as far as driving her to the airport and telling her to have a good time. He'd even plastered a smile on his face and waved goofily as Claudia had gotten out of the car. It was only when she disappeared through the sliding doors that he'd allowed his face to display the fresh pain he felt at the situation. Pete had childishly entertained the thought almost daily that Myka would turn up on his doorstep and beg him to take her back. The arrival of Claudia's invitation to the party had definitely stabbed a hole in that fantasy, and he'd backslid back into unhappiness. After dropping Claudia off, Pete had returned to the comic book store for most of the day, closing up just after dusk settled outside. He made an unplanned detour on his trip home, driving slowly through Boston past places he and Myka had made memories still burned in his mind. When he got to his house, he stumbled through the dark over his accumulated mess, heading for the kitchen. He flicked on light over the stove before placing the purchase from his detour on the counter, and then took a seat on a kitchen stool. Pete had lost track of the amount of time he'd been sitting there, just staring, when his phone started to ring. Thinking it was Claudia, Pete reached absently for the phone, and then dropped it, startled, when he say the name registered on the display. Myka. Given the time difference, her party would have been in full swing for a least a few hours. Pete wagered that she would have gone through quite a few vodka tonics in that time, but even so, his finger twitched over the answer button. He hesitated long enough that the call rang out. Exhaling loudly, Pete pushed his phone away. A few minutes went by before it started to ring again. Pete balled his hand into a fist to stop himself from answering. This time, after the call rang out, Myka left a voicemail message. Tapping in his code, Pete activated the speakerphone.

"Pete." Her voice was soft and uncertain. Pete could hear the muffled noise of music and chatter in the background. Myka had obviously stepped outside to make her call.

"Pete, I'm sorry, I don't even know what I'm doing," Myka whimpered. "I... I can't go through with this. I don't love him, Pete. I love you. I want you. This whole situation is a lie, and it's killing me. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to lie anymore." It was evident at this point that she was crying. "Please pick up the phone, Pete. I love you. I..." The recording cut her off at that point. Barely breathing, Pete fought hard against the lump that had formed in his throat. He was trembling like a leaf. Every fibre of his being wanted to run to the door and straight to the airport, but a big part of his brain still remembered that conversation in the coffee shop from months before. Myka deserved better than what he could give her, and as much as he hated to admit it, Declan was better. She'd wake up in the morning and regret her phone calls, Pete could almost guarantee it, and he just couldn't take that kick in the heart again. His phone started to buzz again, and Pete's resolve started to grow fuzzy. He reached out and wrapped his hand around the neck of the bottle of scotch that had been sitting in front of him all night. With shaking fingers, he unscrewed the cap, inhaling the scent. Pete's heart started to race at the familiar smell. His brain screamed at him to reconsider, but his heart was being egged on by the vibration of his phone. Putting the bottle to his lips, Pete took that first swallow, and felt the liquor burn as it rolled down his throat. By the third pull on the bottle, Pete could feel the familiar warmth start to spread through his body. He glanced sadly at his phone, which had registered more missed calls, all from Myka.

"I love you Mykes," he rasped out. "But I love you enough to let you go." He turned his phone off, climbed off of the stool and sank to the kitchen floor, leaning back against the refrigerator as he took another swig from the scotch bottle.

"But I'm not fine at all," Pete whispered into the dark. "Without you, I will never be fine." Pete could already feel himself drifting towards the dark oblivion he'd experienced during his times of drunken stupor in the past. Taking another drink, Pete prayed for the blackout to come on ease the all-consuming pain in his heart.


End file.
